


A Matter of Spandrels

by nuhiep



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuhiep/pseuds/nuhiep





	A Matter of Spandrels

_Spandrels are the triangular space between the tops of two arches that abut each other in architecture._

* * *

What are we going to do with him?

Lord only knows. Jeannies staying on for the summer term this year.

Soft clinking, silver tapped porcelain. Fine, good cloth rustled in elegant colors to the sound of lifted flutes of gold champagne.

Well, we cant take him with us, Edward. Goodness knows what hell say to the other couples.

Cant he stay with your mum?

Soft light glints through crystal chandeliers. Candles dance steady–rapid shadows on the oak–paneled wall.

Mums off to Majorca this year. What about yours?

Shes refused to take him after last year, remember?

Empty rimmed soup bowls, traces of watercress cling dryly to antique china patterns. Pungent Beef Wellington, mushroom–shallot–garlic scent wafts past still full plates of Brussels sprouts and chestnuts.

Oh, perhaps an educational program, Edward. One of those away camps where children study things at school campuses for the summer.

Ah, brilliant. Keep the boy out of trouble.

Carrot custard melts smooth, rich, perfect on his tongue. Hell have the bread and butter pudding next, the cinnamon and raison exploding in his mouth against soft, sweet milk–bread.

How about it, son? You want to go stretch your mind a bit this summer?

The sensation of fingernails digging into his palm under the table, teeth bite down on metal spoon, copper–bile.

* * *

_They are the often exploited extra space. Unneeded, but used when they exist._

* * *

Congratulations, Doctor. Youve been approved as Head of Science for the Atlantis mission.

No handshake. The harsh fluorescent lighting washes out the heavy–weight gabardine of Air Force dress blues.

Excellent. Thank you, General.

One corner of the mouth tilts up in acknowledgement, lips pressed tight. The ventilation kicks on 28 floors down under Cheyenne Mountain.

Ill need to speak to Colonel Carter about certain power modifications for the — uh — the gate.

He rubs dry hands together.

Im afraid shes been assigned to look after research at Area 51 right now. Weve got other things for her to do.

* * *

_Well–decorated afterthoughts, they serve merely to enhance the foundational arches holding up the soaring, vaulted ceilings where angels fly on star–studded skies._

* * *

Spandrels.

Rodney hates them.


End file.
